Water Festival
by Cirrat
Summary: What should Genma do when he's stuck in the village for a festival he doesn't like? Grab a bottle and head out to enjoy it. Only, he won't be alone. Rated M for language and yaoi, so don't like don't read...


_I hope that you guys like Genma and Yamato :-) I definitely had fun writing them__ for one awesome person and I promise you more fics. I have some planned and am working on few, but I will probably take my time._

_In the case you don't like Genma or Yamato or Yaoi, please, clicky on the "Back" button on your browser and get the hell out of here. Also if you have some objections to characters getting completely wasted, I don't recommend this fic to you._

_This is one-shot fic. I don't plan further chapters for it, although I don't rule out more of this pairing appearing somewhere in the future. There is no specific music associated with this fic, so just listen to whatever makes you feel relaxed. My music for this was Vanessa Mae and Seal._

_And of course, none of the Naruto characters belong to me – I only play with them and my only reward is having fun. Beside the reviews from my readers, that is (yes, that's a hint)._

***

The New Year celebration, also called the Water Festival, was coming close and Genma was in a desperate need for a mission. He avoided staying in the village during this holiday and usually he took long missions, making them even longer to ensure that when he came back through the tall red gates, all signs of festivities were long gone, the streets were cleaned, the water and mud puddles dried out and people were behaving normally. As normally as you can get in a shinobi village, that is.

When asked about it, the senbon user made some vague noises about not liking being doused in water and that it kicked in too many combat reflexes in him to be able to enjoy the festival. This earned him a lot of nicknames and jokes, including being called a pig, a dog and a cat, all for not liking water or baths, but it was only a part of the truth.

While being suddenly splashed with water did push the combat buttons, it wasn't something he would not be able to suppress or forget about for a while. He simply did not like the holiday itself, the pay for the missions during the New Year was pretty good and above all he did not know why should he stay on the first place.

If he wanted to get drunk with friends, he didn't have to wait for a special day. If he wanted to behave like a madman, well, that was something he did usually on his way back from the missions. Not that many people knew about it – he worked better solo anyhow.

But this year Shiranui Genma ran out of luck. He just completed a long-term information gathering mission but ran into a group of high-ranked nuke-nins on his way back. He managed to defeat them, but got injured and collapsed after crossing the border of the Fire Country.

Fortunately, a border patrol stumbled upon him within a few hours and organized an urgent transport back to Konoha.

He was released from the hospital only yesterday, tomorrow was the festival supposed to begin and that terrible woman of a Hokage personally issued an order that he was forbidden to go on another mission until she personally allows it.

To borrow somebody's favorite phrase, what a drag.

Hopefully, even the Hokage could not make him participate in the festivities, so he had no dance to attend, no song to sing and no rite to perform. Strange how this felt even lonelier than his solo missions during this time usually did.

The tall man sighed, switching his senbon from one corner of his mouth to the other, and looked at his own reflection in the mirror. His brown hair brushed well past his chin and needed trimming again. The narrowed brown eyes that looked at him were the color of mud, even though several people told him they were like chocolate. Right. As if he would ever believe that. Slightly rounded face with flat cheekbones, thin lips pursed together, as if ready for a smile that never actually came. And he was dripping cold water everywhere after trying to wake himself up.

Genma narrowed his eyes even more and straightened in front of the sink. "I don't know who you are, dude, but I'm not sure I like you." His murmur sounded strange to his own ears.

The senbon user leaned his head closer to his right shoulder, exposing the newest scar to his sight. He raised his hand to trail along it, the angry red welt still stung, even after the Hokage's master healing.

She told him that if he was found half an hour later, not even she with Shizune and Haruno together would be able to save him.

He was apparently bleeding quite badly and the wound was not a clean cut. Some kind of serrated blade was used and there were pieces of tissue missing.

The Godaime forced his meat and tendons and skin to regenerate with impressive speed and saved his life, only to tell him that he will probably have a string of white spots along the side of his neck from now on. There was only so much she could do with the healing jutsu. Then, after trailing her eyes across his torso, she added that he didn't seem to mind the scars that much.

Genma didn't know how to react at that moment. No, he didn't mind scars, he only tried to keep his face and arms mostly intact not to have to camouflage anything distinctive when on the infiltration missions. Yes, of course he was thankful that he didn't have to die just yet.

But somewhere deep inside he wondered if his death would make any difference.

Every shinobi was replaceable, after all. They had to be. To create a complete specialist whose abilities were impossible to replicate meant to invite a failure as soon as that ninja was incapacitated. Sure, specialization was still encouraged, but only to a certain extent. There were trackers, medi-nins, hunters, assassins, ninja with a brute strength, members of intelligence services, decoders… Some were more special than others, but they were all replaceable.

Genma sighed again and looked sternly at his reflection one more time. "Stop it, boy." His voice was rough, as always in the morning.

He pulled some old khaki T-shirt on and a pair of faded black cargo pants, hiding his usual equipment in the pockets and in the belt, making sure to waterproof his weapons and explosive tags. Sure, he probably would not need them in the village, but better safe than sorry. No ninja in his safe mind would willingly go around unarmed and more than twenty years in the active service taught him that for a shinobi, 'paranoid' was about the right frame of mind.

The tall ninja strapped his sandals on, still trying to persuade himself that he doesn't really need to go outside, especially not today. The Water Festival was at its peak and water bombs were flying everywhere and he really really did not want to be a target for those of his so-called friends who were more than thrilled to learn that he will be staying in Konoha this year. But he was hungry and both his fridge and pantry were empty, because he did not expect to be around and didn't want any food to spoil. With a sigh he opened the door and immediately two things struck him.

The first was the wave of sweltering dry air.

The second was a splash of cold water from a bucket held by nobody else than Maito Gai.

Genma just stood in front of the door, blinking and repeating a mantra of 'must not kill fellow shinobi' in his head a few times, before he raised his hand and wiped the droplets of water from the corners of his eyes.

The Awesome Green Beast of Konoha struck a Good Guy Pose, complete with thumbs up and the sunlight reflecting on his unnaturally white teeth, before claiming loudly, "Happy New Year, my dear youthful colleague! I won another challenge with my esteemed rival, who said that by no means I will get to you first…"

A mighty splash interrupted his speech, dousing Genma in an awesome wave of water again.

The dripping victim of yet another water attack raised his head to look on the roof of his house.

Widely grinning Izumo was hanging from the side of the building, raising his hand in a mock salute while Kotetsu held his ankles in a chakra reinforced grip, cackling like a madman. It was obvious that Izumo used his water summoning techniques for the purpose of the Water Festival.

Genma looked from the pair of mad Hokage assistants to the man in front of him, finding him dripping wet as well.

Apparently either Izumo could not direct the stream of water properly or, and this was more probable, he decided to get two flies with one hit.

The brown-haired man smirked and closed his door finally, leaving the mess in the corridor for later. Who knows, maybe by the time he got back the heat would dry the puddles on his floor and he would not have to deal with it at all.

Needless to say, the short trip to the grocery store was basically one water ambush after the other. Kakashi, Anko, Raidou – everybody wanted to get to him. Naturally, those with water affinity used it gleefully, washing everybody and everything with tidal waves of magnitude.

As he stood dripping wet and shivering from the cold air-conditioning blasts in the grocery shop and chose the items to buy, he wondered what happened with the tradition of politely sprinkling the person with a few drops of water before wishing him a happy new year. But he expected this otherwise he would not choose such old but easy-to-dry clothes.

Of course, he could avoid the water-filled balloons and waves and what not easily, he was one of the elite after all, but he knew that his so-called friendly tormentors would get even more excitement from the chase and therefore would plot how to make him stay during the next Water Festival again. And this was something he was going to avoid at all costs again. He turned and made his way to the cashier.

An amber bottle of liquor winked at him from its place on a shelf.

He snatched it without thinking and added it to his shopping. It might come useful later tonight after all.

The day was gone, the darkness fell and Genma eyed his small companion.

The bottle full of imported whiskey sat on his table, mocking him, daring him to drink it to drown his loneliness and feeling of unimportance in the amber liquid.

Outside people cheered and celebrated, mostly masked civilians marching around to the cheerful beat of drums, shouts, shrill whistles and old songs not so much sung as shouted by dozens of drunken throats.

That was it, Genma decided in the stuffy and warm air of his empty apartment. He snatched the bottle and walked out again. He ducked and wove through the throng of people dancing, people laughing, people drinking, people eating stuff sold by dozens of street vendors.

Some of them were still running around with water balloons and water pistols, spraying the shrieking crowd, especially the young girls.

The mix of dust, mud, overheated grease and tobacco mixed up with sweat and incense, creating a cloying smell that suffocated Genma.

He should be already accustomed to such situations, but something about today, about not wanting to be here turned into a garrote of panic slowly squeezing his throat, denying him much needed air.

The tall man avoided a figure of red and golden dragon marching around on eight pairs of feet, ducked behind a quickly assembled stand selling fried meat on sticks and took to the roofs. It was much quieter here, but he could still see that many of the roofs were occupied.

Silent – or not so silent – silhouettes sat, laid or jumped up and down the small shingled places, drank from bottles and chewed on whatever they had. Some were alone, some were in smaller groups, there were even a few pairs making out sloppily, all visible against the expanse of dark sky behind them, lit by the many lanterns carried around on the streets below.

For a moment the senbon user thought that this was the allegory between the civilian and shinobi world:

They will always be hidden from the main population and they will be separate from them, yet at the same time the much bigger and noisier world will still touch them and influence them, no matter what. They will always follow what their village was doing, only on their own level.

Still, even this was not what Genma was looking for. He glided over the unoccupied rooftops silently, making his way closer and closer to the Hokage monument.

The top of the rock that carried five faces was much higher than the sea of shingles and the ocean of the crowd. Perhaps there will be some fresh air and calmness he seemed to lack today.

As he walked the few remaining steps, Genma realized that this was exactly what he needed. A small breeze was blowing gently, moving the leaves of threes around him in soothing whispers, cooling his overheated face and taking away the headache the tall ninja had not even been aware of until the discomfort left. He felt his spine straightening, his shoulders setting back and relaxing, tension leaving his body.

The senbon user rounded a big boulder on the top of the mountain and cursed silently. Today was really not his day – even right now somebody else seemed to have the same brilliant idea he had, only earlier.

Sitting at the edge of the rock was Tenzou. Or rather Yamato, how he preferred to be called today – nobody really knew his name, him being the only infant surviving Orochimaru's experiments and gaining the moukuton, the Shodai's wood manipulation technique in the process. The man leaned on the boulder behind him, dressed in a simple grey shirt and grey slacks, sweat or maybe water from the festival showing on the fabric in darker stains. His hitai-ate was missing, leaving his shorter brown hair to fall naturally around his slightly elongated but not unpleasant face.

Genma knew the man, they cooperated often in the past. He was slightly older than the ANBU sitting on the precipice, but they graduated from the Academy in the same year, Genma at the age of ten, Yamato was six. They were fulfilling their duty to the village ever since.

The sitting man suddenly raised a bottle to his lips and took a deep swig, before turning to face Genma. Dark, practically black, almond-shaped eyes met his and the perpetual crease between the younger man's eyebrows deepened for a moment, before he recognized the senbon user.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know this place was taken." Genma quietly apologized and turned around to leave, thinking maybe about taking his alcohol into the forest of death.

Quiet voice interrupted his thoughts and stopped his steps. "There's enough place for two, sempai."

He chuckled mirthlessly. "How many times have I told you not to call me so? We left the Academy in the same year and you became chuunin immediately. I had to wait for three years before I made it. Maybe you should call me kohai, ne?"

The sitting man turned back to the view before him and took another swig. "Whatever, Genma-san. I see you brought your own bottle. You can stay if I don't have to share."

The older man hesitated for a while, then unstrapped his sandals and walked over to where Yamato was sitting. He made a shooing motion and waited for the other to move to the side a bit, so that he could lean on the boulder as well. Then he lowered himself to the ground, swung his bare feet over the edge and wiggled his toes, satisfied with the wind that sneaked around his naked skin.

After setting into a comfortable position, Genma unscrewed the bottle of whiskey, threw the cap away and drank from it deeply, enjoying the harsh bite and burning sensation of potent alcohol going down his throat. He lowered the bottle from his lips and sighed contentedly before wiping the dribbles of his drink from his chin. He knew he was a sloppy drunk – and he knew that Yamato knew this too. True, he was still sober, but he planned on correcting this rather soon.

It was quiet up here, the shouts and laughter of the crowd muted into a gentle murmur, somehow reminding him of whispering of the sea waves upon sand. The brightly lit streets spun a delicate and slightly warped cobweb around the Hokage Tower, lanterns in hands of those celebrating turning each passage into a river of light, flowing and bobbing around. The air was still clean, only occasional whiff of burning wooden coal reaching the refreshing heights of the Hokage monument.

The shinobi on the roofs continued their own celebration, without light and loud music, still illuminated by the rivers of fire beneath them and cooled by silver starlight from above.

Genma drank some more of his whisky, finally starting to feel the buzz between his ears. He could hear the splash of alcohol in the bottle and swallowing noises from the man beside him but he didn't turn to look at the other when he asked, "Do you come here every year?"

"Kami, Genma-san, this sounds like one of the cheaper pick-up lines, yunno?" Yamato's speech was starting to slur a tiny bit. There was brief silence, before the moukuton user continued. "Yes, I do. But I've never seen you here before." He snickered briefly, obviously amused with his reply being in tune with the original question.

The long-haired man leaned against the boulder more comfortably and chuckled at Yamato's remark. "True that." He sighed. "You haven't seen me here because I'm usually not around the village during the New Year. Didn't make it out fast enough this year, the Hokage trapped me here."

The younger shinobi snorted. "Evil, evil woman. I'll drink to that." And he did exactly what he said.

Genma followed the ANBU's action immediately. "Good idea."

They sat in a companionable silence for a while, listening to their drinks sloshing in the bottles and the quiet rustle of fabric on fabric as each of them moved. Finally the moukuton user said, with much more slurring this time, "Why are you not down there?"

The senbon user shrugged. "Dunno. Can't stand crowds I guess…"

"No." The younger man wagged his finger at him and pointed it down again. "Not down there, but _there_."

Genma followed the wavering digit to where it pointed, crossing and uncrossing his eyes in the process.

What Yamato had in mind was one of the bigger group of shinobi on the rooftops. He could make the distinct silhouettes of Kakashi, Gai and Anko amongst others and shrugged again. "Dunno." He thought for a while before adding. "Doesn't seem to be my place today."

"Aaah," Yamato nodded in apparent understanding but it was not long before some thought creased his forehead again. "Why it isn't your place? You are usually with them, no?"

He shrugged again. It seemed that today was quite a day for gymnastics. Evening. Night. Whatever. "Not today." He chugged on his whisky again. "I mean, look." He pointed back to the shinobi on the rooftops again.

"Hm?" His companion clearly hadn't understood yet.

"Look, they're stuck!"

There was an incredulous look on the ANBU's face. "Stuck? Stuck where?"

"Outside the world of people." Genma made a serious face and nodded, satisfied with himself.

"What is that crap, Genma?" Yamato was clearly so wasted he didn't care about suffixes anymore.

Well, neither did he. He took a deep breath, thought for a while, before drinking his whiskey again, noticing that the bottle was becoming empty fast. It was good that he hadn't eaten anything that day, so he would get wasted faster. But he was supposed to explain something, wasn't he? Ah, yes… "See, they are illu… illumatened… oh, fuck it… lighted by the lights from the street, yes?"

The other shinobi nodded numbly.

"And you can see them as dark people against dark sky, yes?"

Yamato nodded again.

"Well," Genma grinned victoriously, "Then it's obvious. They don't belong to the world of the normal people and they are not gods either." He took another swig to celebrate his successful explanation.

"That's bullshit." The moukuton user snorted. "If anybody does not belong, it's me." He leaned back on the boulder and closed his eyes, the dark circles around them suddenly much more pronounced and looking like fresh bruises.

Genma swallowed nervously. He knew what the slightly smaller and more slender shinobi meant. After all, it was a common knowledge amongst the people of their age that he was an experiment. A successful experiment, mind you, but still not a fully normal being. And that meant something even in the village full of crazy shinobi and Maito Gai.

He frowned. The younger man usually did not allow this thing to get to him and outside his duties he was one of the most friendly and easy-going people Genma knew. He searched amongst the stuttering cog-wheels of his mind for something that would cheer the other up, but there was only one thing he could come up with. "At least you're not replaceable…"

"What?" Yamato's eyes flew open and he turned to face his companion. "You're so full of shit today!"

"Well, excuse me, but you are the one who invited me to stay. I was going to find myself a nice and quiet place in the Forest of Death but no, you told me to stay and now you whine…" Genma huffed in annoyance and frowned in the direction to his left where the other sat.

"Oh." The younger man turned back to the view of the village and brushed some imaginary lint from his shoulders. "In such a case, don't let me hold you back from your carefully planned festivities, idiot."

Genma struggled to his feet. "Fine!" He snapped irritably. "I'm going. I will have myself a nice chat with some snakes there! I'm sure they will be better companions than you are!"

Yamato turned back to him. "Would not!"

The senbon user stepped into his sandals, bent down, set his bottle against a boulder carefully and started to fasten them. "Would too," he dropped around his shoulder. "At least they don't whine as much as you do now. What, did you not get your whiny quota done when you was a kid?"

The younger man gaped at him and even the wind seemed to still after these words.

Genma replayed his last sentence in his head. "Hoshit!"

But it was already too late. The ANBU stood up much more gracefully than he did, leaned down to carefully deposit his bottle against a boulder too and then charged for him, eyes glistening angrily as two chips of obsidian in the moonlight.

Genma only had a second to get ready and he expected a full-blown ANBU attack, so he was much surprised when Yamato caught his neck and attempted to choke him sloppily. He immediately retaliated by punching the slender man in the gut.

He let go of Genma's throat and gasped, bending in half but recovering quickly and sending his own fist flying in the direction of the glistening senbon, certain that it will meet the jaw somewhere along the line. But he miscalculated and actually scratched the back of his own hand on the sharp piece of metal, only grazing Genma's nose in the process. "Son of a bitch! That hurts!"

"Serves you right!" The older shinobi panted as he tried to twist the other's arm behind his back.

Yamato twisted out of his grip suddenly and tried to grab Genma's hair, but the unexpected dodge left him only with a familiar piece of cloth.

"Hey! Now I can't see anything!" The dark brown hair was floating around Genma's head, obscuring his vision, as he tumbled on his ass after dodging Yamato's hand. Before he could shake them out of his eyes, legs appeared on either side of him and a sudden weight on his back made him lean forwards sharply with an arm attempting to sneak around his throat to take him into a chokehold. Well, 'attempting' was the key word here, Genma sniggered to himself and turned his head just so, catching the tender piece of meat in the bend of an elbow between his teeth. He chomped down and was rewarded with a scream and a blow to his ear that forced him to let go. He pushed both hands behind him and shoved with all his might, hearing fabric rip, and staggered to his feet again.

Yamato laid on his back, propped up on his elbows, as he fell when he was shoved back. He was panting and his shirt was ripped, few drops of blood showing on the light grey fabric. He looked down on his chest. "You scratched me, you bastard!" There was incredulity in his voice as he struggled to his feet again.

Genma sniggered again. "And I bit you too!" He pointed out gleefully.

The smaller man huffed before stomping over to him and kicking him in the shins, sticking his tongue out for the good matter.

The senbon user stomped on the other's feet before he doubled over and laughed. "What are you doing?"

Yamato flicked his ear painfully. "Fighting Genma style, obviously."

The taller shinobi sprawled on his back by Yamato's feet and laughed and laughed.

All annoyance forgotten, the moukuton user went to retrieve both their bottles and gave Genma his whiskey before laying on his back beside the other man, listening to his near hysterical laughter.

After a while he stopped, only chuckling now and then, before falling completely silent. He gazed up and saw the myriad of stars, much much more than what he saw from the rooftops. The lights from the streets did not reach so high as to obscure the cold distant gems on the sky.

They both lapsed into a complete silence, save for a sigh now and then, before Genma spoke again. "I'm out of whiskey."

Yamato slurred to his right, "I'm out of rum…"

Silence, even the murmur of the crowd dissipated and all that was left was wind in the leaves, crickets chirping and their breathing.

The taller man had not diverted his eyes from the lights above them, feeling their pull and imagining having to stand up and trod all the way back to his apartment only to be acutely aware of its emptiness, stale air and low ceiling. He whispered more for himself, "I don't want to move…"

He didn't care if the other one heard him or if he understood that he actually meant "I don't want to go home." He was tired, aching from his recent injuries as well as from the fight they had right now, but somehow, somehow he felt less lonely now. He was afraid though.

He was afraid that should he move, should he breathe, the stars above him would lose their magic and the moment will be lost. And so he stayed, not moving, not daring to close his eyes, forgetting about his silent companion and feeling as if he was falling upwards, floating closer and closer to the cold blinking lights.

Genma didn't know how much time has passed before he felt Yamato stir beside him.

The younger shinobi propped himself on both elbows looking around the clearing between the boulders and nodded to himself.

The earth shook slightly and low moans were heard around them as a very small and low hut emerged from the ground.

Genma looked at it and then at Yamato, who was getting to his feet tiredly and stretched a bit, before extending hand to him. "I can't do much bigger now, I would not get the static right. Come on, let's get inside. It will be cold during the night."

The senbon user looked at the sky again before murmuring in a low voice, "I don't mind cold."

The expression on the other one's face did not change. "Okay, so do you want some forest critter come and use your ear instead of a toilet?"

He shuddered. "No, I think not." He clasped the hand and groaned as he got to his feet and wobbled a bit, the sudden switch of position making him dizzy. "Raido still has nightmares about that squirrel."

They both chuckled and stumbled to the hut, lying down on the floor.

It wasn't a big one, just enough for two and no baggage, but at least there was no draft and no creature would disturb their sleep by mistaking them for a bush or attempting to sample a bite. Genma snuggled up in one corner while Yamato slept along the opposite wall.

The tokubetsu jounin could only tell by listening to the other one's breathing.

Apparently, Yamato felt that windows are an unnecessary luxury and did not create some, making the interior in the hut pitch black.

Genma tried to wave his hand in front of his own face, but he didn't see anything at all and so he gave up and fell asleep.

He woke up again during the night shivering violently. He tried to make a smaller ball with his body to prevent the escape of heat, but it wasn't really cooperating. After a while he realized that he could hear teeth chattering nearby. "Yamato?" His whisper got no answer, so he moved in the direction of the noise, climbing to his hands and knees and promptly tripping over his own hands in the process.

He landed with a silent 'oof' on the hard floor, but this time there was a source of warmth near to his back. With feeling the heat seeping through his clothes into his body he smiled contentedly and fell asleep again.

The next time he woke up it was to feel another body pressed firmly along his back and a hand encircling his waist, keeping him close. He finally took the senbon from his mouth and sent it flying in the general direction of the wall opposite to his face, a dull 'thunk' telling him that the piece of metal was now well out of the way. He snuggled close to the other and closed his eyes, only to realize that nobody could drink a whole bottle of alcohol in one evening without their bladder taking a revenge on them.

He crawled from under the warm arm, hearing Yamato sigh in the darkness, and continued in the direction he could feel the slight draft from. When he stumbled out of the door, he was mesmerized. The whole world seemed to be drenched in silver, each tree standing tall and proud as a column of light and the ground between them looked like made from opals in the moonlight.

A pang in his abdomen reminded himself what woke him up on the first place and he ducked behind a bush to relieve himself. Walking to the hut he looked around himself again, drinking in the sight. He was often outside in the forest at night, but not even during the full moon had he seen such a beauty. Maybe even the nature was celebrating the New Year coming. He chuckled and crawled back into the small wooden construction.

As he closed the door behind himself, he stopped for a while, getting used to the complete blindness again and listening for Yamato's breathing. He was chilled from his short trip outside and it was really much warmer and more comfortable in here. Locating Yamato's approximate position, he crawled on all four again, feeling with his hands until he found the other's leg. Patting upwards, he stretched beside the younger man, turning to him with his back.

The arm came back around his waist and the other shinobi mumbled something unintelligible into his ear, pulling him closer into his chest.

Genma smiled drowsily and started to drift off. As he hovered on the edge of unconsciousness, pleasantly tired and still more than a little buzzed, he realized that the hand at his waist wasn't at his waist anymore.

Said hand wriggled under his T-shirt and flattened itself on his belly, crawling slowly to his chest, fingers stroking, probing, caressing.

He purred contentedly, snaking his left arm back and encountering Yamato's hip on its way. He let his palm stay there, stroking and kneading, listening to the other man breathing faster and more shallow. He realized that this was turning him on faster than he thought possible, even had he not consumed that much liquor that evening.

Hair tickled his ear and he could feel Yamato's lips on his neck, while his hand stroked one of his nipples and the other sneaked around, pillowing his head and grasping his shoulder.

He gasped and half turned in between those skilled hands to allow the other a better access. It was a bit of fumble in the complete darkness, but soon warm and slightly chapped lips found their way to his own. He lifted his hand to cradle Yamato's head and pressed himself back into the warmth – and something hard that he could feel on his back. He rather felt than heard Yamato's low moan.

The hand under his clothes travelled south leisurely but surely and soon he felt those long slender fingers fumbling with the fly of his trousers. Soon all the buttons were undone and Yamato held his length in his hand stroking it lightly while his tongue leisurely explored Genma's mouth.

He reached behind himself again only to twist his wrist slightly and dive into the other's pants, closing his fingers around his prize. He felt Yamato gasp against his lips and how his body shuddered against his side.

Yamato squeezed his shaft one more time eliciting tremors that ran up and down Genma's spine, before letting go and moving his hand to his hip, pushing and then pulling at the fabric there a bit.

Understanding the other man's intent Genma lifted his hips slightly, enough to get his clothes out of the way, before opening Yamato's fly completely. Then he turned on his side, just like he was before, letting his head rest on both his and Yamato's arms and reaching behind to direct the head of Yamato's cock inside himself. When he was sure the other had the right direction, he let go and braced himself against the floor in front of his chest.

The ANBU was filling him in gradual shallow strokes, always easing in just a little bit more. It was kind of lazy and slow and gentle and considerate, just what he needed at this moment. Yamato's hand was playing with his member idly and his teeth scraped slightly along Genma's neck, keeping things comfortable and full of pleasure.

Still drowsy and sleepy, Genma was more than willing to submit himself to whatever the other one decided to bestow on his body and so far he was more than pleasantly surprised. It was clear that the younger shinobi was thinking exactly along the same lines as he was, not hurrying anywhere, not asserting himself by force. The long-haired man relaxed even more, letting his head fall back against Yamato's shoulder and moving his hips in a soft counterpart to the leisure strokes both inside his body and around his dick that made his breath hitch and sent his head spinning.

He could feel teeth tightening on his neck and a slight sting told him that Yamato was probably marking him right where his latest scar was. Only then did he realize that now he could feel the whole length of Yamato's shaft sliding in and out of his hole as well as undulating of those lean but powerful muscles behind his body.

A little shift of angle later forced him to mewl lowly as the man behind him, inside him, dragged his cock across Genma's prostate in slow and sure strokes, turning his body into a trembling pile of goo.

Just a moment later Genma decided that the ANBU was probably a mind-walker as well.

Just when his want grew enough to make the rhythm feel a bit too slow and gentle, Yamato started to move faster and with more vehemence, making Genma forget everything aside the motion inside him and the hand around his own cock.

The long-haired shinobi turned his head back again, as far as he could in the current position, and immediately that still kind of unfamiliar but great pair of lips latched to his own and the moist tongue snaked into his own mouth, occupying it and stealing his breath thoroughly.

The heat in his belly spiked suddenly and Genma broke from the kiss, gasping for air and pulsing in Yamato's hand, coating the long clever digits with his seed. He could feel himself tightening around the intruding member that worked his insides skillfully and soon he felt Yamato's rhythm getting erratic and the younger man's teeth clamping on his neck with bruising force, a long low moan escaping the other's throat as he spilled his load deep in Genma's body.

His mind still reeling Genma snuggled as close as possible to the warm body behind him keeping Yamato's length still lodged inside himself and closed his eyes. He was only slightly aware of the wet and sticky hand working its way under his shirt again and holding him close before the sleep returned and claimed him again.

The next time the senbon user woke up it was to a hangover of doom. His throat felt gritty, there was an army of iron-clad samurai marching inside his skull and his eyes were incredibly sore. As he slowly regained consciousness, he realized that his eyes were not the only sore body part. And just after he acknowledged the attempts of his stomach to persuade him that they were on a sea in a rickety boat and a gale was coming, he registered the heavy warm arm that was back around his waist.

This of course led to the realization that the arm is attached to a body and that the body belongs to his frequent mission partner, Yamato from ANBU.

Said man was currently lying on his side, his head propped on one of his hands and was observing Genma's face with a slight smile. "How do you feel?"

The tokubetsu jounin groaned and closed his eyes again to save them from the harsh sunlight that came through the open door now. "Hangover from hell. I don't think I ever want to drink again…" He turned to his side and shifted himself to fit around Yamato's body without fully realizing what he was doing. It simply seemed right and comfortable. "What time is it?"

The younger shinobi chuckled good-naturedly, "A little bit after five. Nobody's on the streets yet and the heat hadn't started either."

Genma groaned again. "Well, I suppose those are those smaller blessings one should be grateful for. Fancy a shower and some breakfast?"

"I won't say no." Yamato admitted. After a while when neither of them stirred, he added, "You realize that we have to move for that?"

"Okay, okay…" The senbon user crawled from under Yamato's arm, finger combing his hair and straightening out his clothes, before staggering out of the small wooden hut. He squinted against the bright morning sun and something gleaming on the ground caught his eye. He bent down and grabbed his hitai-ate, tying it over his hair in his usual style.

The slight tremor of the ground told him that the moukuton user dealt with their temporary bedroom and sure enough, soon he heard the other man's footsteps behind him.

"I believe this is yours," Yamato held his senbon to him.

"Right, right…" Genma popped his favorite piece of metal into the corner of his mouth again. A pleasant sting in his lower back reminded him of their activities during the night. He looked over to Yamato's bruised and positively green face. "Yunno, I wouldn't mind doing that again." He chuckled and then held his head. "Only sans the alcohol and fighting this time."

"Sounds about right…" Yamato closed his eyes and was taking deep steady breaths, probably to calm his rebelling stomach. "Your place or mine?"

"Definitely mine – much calmer than the barracks." Genma swore to himself silently that he would find the bottle of aspirin as soon as they got home.

"Lead the way then."

They staggered through the streets littered with streamers, confetti, spilled puddles of water and more vicious liquids, they avoided broken glass bottles and human barf, occasionally sending a bigger piece of rubble flying with their stumbling feet and arrived to Genma's place soon enough. One turn of the key and a brief flare of chakra to deactivate the traps later and they entered the dark corridor.

Genma let out a relieved huff, at least his eyes were hurting much less now. He looked around and realized that he left the window open and the blinds down and the air in his home was now cool and fresh.

The senbon user peeled himself off the wall he was leaning on and gave the shorter shinobi a short tour. He stumbled through the open room on their left and entered his bedroom behind it, shoving a thumb in the direction of low chest of drawers, "If you need some clothes, look in there. I don't mind. Clean towels are in the third drawer, so grab yourself one. The bathroom is the only other door in the living room." He yawned and stretched until his spine cracked. "I'm gonna start the breakfast." He left the silent shinobi rummaging through his things and went back.

The corridor that opened into the door less living room on one side opened into a spacious kitchen and eating corner on the other. Genma was glad that he had bought this house. Sure, it was small, but there was also a storage room at the back and something that was probably intended as a guest bedroom. Only, he turned it into another storage too…

Right. First things first. He rummaged in one of the cupboards, fishing for the bottle of aspirin that held his affection since he opened his eyes this morning. Swallowing two pills dry he started a simple meal and the big kettle of strong coffee. There wasn't a shinobi who would say no to coffee.

Soon there was miso soup steaming in its pot and rice was cooking. Just as Genma fought with a jar of pickles, trying to open it, the bathroom door opened and Yamato stepped up, dressed only in a pair of Genma's boxers and toweling his hair dry.

The long-haired shinobi took the opportunity to take a closer look at the body he got so familiar with in the complete darkness.

Yamato was not much smaller than he was, only about an inch, but he probably had only half of Genma's weight. While he looked simply lean when in his clothes, now he looked positively emaciated.

Genma frowned a bit but he knew this was just how the other's body worked.

No matter how much Yamato ate, his body was burning up calories at amazing speed, never allowing him to gain weight.

Scars crisscrossed the slender body like a silvery web with an occasional thicker white welt showing the bigger damage done in the past. This was shinobi's life in a visual presentation – each scar was a reminder of a close or even closer brush with Shinigami and another successful dodge out of his path. Amongst them was a pinkish scratch where Genma's nail caught his skin yesterday.

As Yamato walked to the kitchen, a stray sunbeam caught his left side making the moist skin glisten and accentuating the contrast of black swirl of the ANBU tattoo.

The senbon user gulped. Despite the hangover and exhaustion and soreness nearly all over his body the sight of nearly naked Yamato and memories from the night were enough to feed the fire in his lower belly again.

He reminded himself sternly that he needed to take care of himself first and at least he could be clean and well-rested before they go on with whatever is going to happen. He asked the moukuton user to watch the rice, dove into the bathroom and within less than a minute he was enjoying a shower too. A look in the mirror later showed him that there was a distinct print of teeth directly on the scar from his last mission. On the scar that Hokage promised to examine tomorrow.

There was also a light bruising encircling his neck from the drunken fight. Genma shrugged and grinned at his own reflection. "I'm not still completely sure who you are, dude, but I like you much better today. The Lady will have to deal with me as I am."

The breakfast was a silent affair, each man nursing his mug of coffee rather than the traditional green tea, and munching away on the rice, pickles and soup, the comfortable silence disturbed only by an occasional sigh or grunt from either of them or by the slowly picking up noise from outside. There were footsteps walking around, somebody was sweeping the dirt on the streets away, making the place ready for the last round of celebrations that evening, first vendors were already starting the fires in their stands, to be ready to grill any food as soon as early customers appeared.

Genma yawned and stood up to dump his bowls and mug in the sink. He murmured to Yamato, "I'll deal with it later. Need sleep now." He padded to his bedroom, yanked the blanket away and crawled under the top sheet. It was too hot for the blanket already and the sheet would be enough to keep the draft away from his body.

As he closed his eyes, he could hear the nearly silent footsteps approaching and then he felt the mattress dipping under the weight of another body.

Familiar hand snaked around his waist and pulled him closer to the well-defined chest. Spiky brown hair still damp from the shower tickled his jaw and Yamato's head settled on his shoulder, while one of his legs rested between Genma's knees.

Who knew that the fearsome fighter was such a shameless cuddler.

Not that Genma minded.

As they were slowly falling asleep surrounded by muted sunlight coming through the blinds and clean smell of the sheets, footsteps came running and high voices could be heard cheering and laughing. Probably some kids on their way to the Academy. One of the high-pitched voices yelled, "Happy new year, Konoha!"

The long-haired shinobi felt a rumble in Yamato's chest, as the younger man murmured, "Happy indeed."

Just before the unconsciousness claimed him Genma couldn't help but agree.

***

_So, I placed the New Year celebration in Konoha in the middle of April. Wiki the "Water Festival" for more info.__ Also, can you imagine that I was Wiki-ing "bed sheets" to test out an idea? I can't help it, I am a strange person and a strong believer in "Research is your best friend" motto._

_Drop me a review, would you? And if you tell me in the review which parts worked for you and which didn't, you will help me to make my writing even better. How about that?_

_Oh, if you are wondering about the time frame, then place it anytime after the time skip into some more or less peaceful moment._


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